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scratchings 7

with what little battery / is left, I stretch my verbs / strike black keys / mimic the sound of rain with / these thoughts. About how / London works better / in winter. Once cold, closed off / we hold our bodies like / a first day at school / and can you smell / the longing / seeping through. Is it not sweet? And you, too / who are not an android / either / didn’t you ask for more / to be held by than / coat, something else, and rarer / than that silk blue scarf? / (for)give yourself / the time you loved a stranger / ironed a biography onto his clothes / in a city where a glance held overly long / eclipses you. Here / in your chosen habitat / looks are expensive / a look is / a lesson / is a life shared / then unshared / partir: to share, break, leave, quit / a blink / changes the slide / returns the topic to you, over-seasoned with / rent and bad air, you / with just a shadow and / a reflection / to outlive.